The drama that were trips to shags

By TONY MALESI

KENYA: Back in the day, you noticed you are in shags when your car broke down and the only available spare part at the nearest shop — most probably a hardware — was a sledgehammer!

Festivities in shags used to be quite an experience and people began planning for it as early as January. The festivities always began with a torturous long journey full of unnecessary stops and drama, but who was complaining? The drama provided the much-needed comic relief, after all.

Atop the bus were furniture — sofa sets, beds, cupboards and whatnot. On the bus, one had to compete for the limited fresh air not just with other human beings but also goats and chicken. Considering overloading was the order of the day and Cologne had not been discovered, ‘fresh air‘ was not that fresh.

In fact, one would be forgiven for thinking that Nairobi County and both beneficiaries and stakeholders of the multi-million Dandora dumping site had relocated the waste yard to the bus.

I mean, the bus was not just stuffy but littered with waste of all sorts.

Never mind we always had mothers changing their babies soiled napkins and kept the faeces beneath the seats. And again, those who occupied window seats never wanted to open the windows to let in fresh air that impatiently waited from outside.

Stench aside, the bus was cacophonous and chaotic than your average soko mjinga. It was one fine mess: passengers were always arguing with one another; a husband and a wife quarrelling; a passenger bandying words with the bus conductor; two perfect strangers (and loudmouths, to boot) loudly analysing politic; kids crying; goats bleating and chicken clucking.

For some strange reason, I always sat next to a mother with a battalion of kids, and before she could request me to allow one of them to turn my lap into a seat, two had already planted themselves on my lap.

Munching

After a while, the man whose mouth was busy munching everything passed to him by his seat mates, always developed a running stomach. And had to nag the conductor every now and then to stop the bus for him to run to the bush to you-know-what.

I remember once, such a man being chased by a warthog before he had finished his business and emerged running to the bus with his trousers gathered around his knees.

During such long journeys is when unborn babies — well known for their impatience and poor timing — chose to be born. Thus, when labour pains began, the conductor had to stop the bus for the expectant mother to be rushed to a nearby bush, with a few passengers offering to midwife her, before proceeding with the journey. 

Not to forget, there was always a passenger who was allergic to those she sat next to or some towns and whenever the bus passed through such towns, they began vomiting. The conductor, again, had to stop the bus for her to finish vomiting.

Never mind there was also an official stop for everyone now to go and stretch and visit a nearby bush to relieve themseves. Depending on what people ate, they would take a lot of time in the bush. Mind you, there was no way the bus would proceed with the journey before everyone was back from the bush.

By the time the journey, which ordinarily was to take a few hours, ended, one realised that they had wasted a day-and-a-half.